


our blades cut deeper than their words

by highvalyrian



Series: die with memories, not dreams [3]
Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: 1984
Genre: F/M, Graphic Description, Killing, Kissing, Minor Character Death, Montana and Xavier Are Ghosts, Murder, Summer Camp, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-23 17:09:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21084890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highvalyrian/pseuds/highvalyrian
Summary: Montana is enjoying her eternal life at Camp Redwood. Every new arrival brings a new spree of deaths, and perhaps it is most fun having Xavier by her side in all this. With Brooke still in her mind, regretting her choices of before, her only distraction is preparation for a final brawl- and the only way she can do that is through murder.





	our blades cut deeper than their words

Montana's feet kicked the water as she sat upon the bridge, contemplating her existence after death. _Fuck Brooke_ still ran through her mind. She was gone, placed in prison, and though the life in a jail cell was nonetheless suffering, she wanted the girl dead. It struck a chord in her heart that it was that brunette who placed a knife through her skin, leaving her dead and despairing inside the rotting walls of Camp Redwood. Was Montana at fault in any way? Of course not. She wanted vengeance, and now never got it.

There were footsteps along the wooden pier, slow and rhythmic. She wasn't sure if whoever came saw her— the now-familiar ghost abilities she developed from death made it so she can appear to whoever she wanted, whenever she wanted. Maybe if Brooke decided to come back, she'd get close behind her and then plunge a knife through her pretty pale skin. Montana wanted to make her suffer, and so long as she was trapped in the camp with her, she would.

Her head turned, slight, taking in the image of whoever decided it was a good idea to interrupt her internal monologuing session. A man, able-bodied and decently attractive, though unfamiliar in almost every way. When his head was turned, looking off behind him to perhaps investigate the camp, Montana stood up and moved closer. She was sure that, to him, she was visible. "Hey," she said in that free-flowing voice of hers, malice lacing her usually normal greeting as if she were a snake trying to speak.

The man turned his head back to her, alarmed. It always amused her to see the living jump at her sudden image, so enchanted by wonder that — wow, a person randomly appeared — rather than analyzing the situation and wondering how, in fact, did this person get here?

"What are you doing here?" the man seemed skeptical, but also tense. Montana read his body, watching as his feet pivoted away from her and towards his only escape. Angled, the blonde girl tried to ease his worries by stepping closer and opening her body, spreading her arms out wide and taking a quick glance at the camp.

"What's it look like?" she questioned, then laughed. "Just having fun. Relax, I'm not going to bust your late-summer rendezvous." There had to be a girl somewhere, a person he brought with him. In no way did a guy come to the site of two massacres just to masturbate in the bottomless lake. "Where's your girl? Or friends?"

He visibly relaxed, shoulders losing their previous tension. "Getting some towels and checking out the cabins. We stay overnight at these creepy places, fuck in the haunted spots." He laughed, breathy exhales that made his Adam's apple bob up and down. Montana let the lenses of her sunglasses fall, her eyes visible to him in all their mystery and perfection.

"That sounds fucked up," she says, though her original lighthearted tone vanished, instead replaced by some intrigue. "You wanna know where they died?"

He raised a brow, hands crossing over his chest. "In the cabins." Montana shook her head, an amused smirk rising to her face. "That's what the news report says."

"Fuck the media," she grumbled. "Usually wrong. Nobody was murdered in the cabins. I can show you where it actually was." A dangerous glint in her eyes followed her sly words, perhaps antagonizing the poor victim of her ruthless trap. He didn't deserve it. nobody did. It was just fun, a pleasant way to live out her afterlife in the best way possible- an endless game of cat and mouse.

He seemed skeptical but followed Montana as she left the dock. "How do you know they're wrong?"

Montana had time to decide upon an answer as she walked. She hummed to music instead of responding, leading her victim to believe she wasn't telling the truth. Little would he know, he would be wrong about two things: she did know where people died, and she was intending on killing him there as well.

"Saw some blood." There was no blood on the ground, but she pointed at the grassy spot. "There."

He leaned forward, just as they always do. Not a single one stayed still, none disobeyed her. "I don't see it-"

An abrupt cut to his voice came as the cold metal of her knife dug deep into the back of his neck, exposed by his folded collar. There was a strange satisfaction in watching his body tense, the knife handle aided against his body by the liquids in his body pooling behind it. Montana pulled the weapon out, surely not to leave the blood trapped and clog up the wound, preventing him from bleeding out. With that pull came another push, this time into his back. With a careful drag, she let it roll along next to his spine, that psychotic giggle of adrenaline rushing from her mouth as his shirt's fabric popped and ripped. This was her new drug, her source of dopamine in times of need. Fuck weed, fuck cocaine- killing was the shit.

His body fell once the knife left his skin again, face crashing into the patch of dull-green grass. Where Montana once lay now rested another body, covering the same spot where Brooke had once put an end to the blonde’s life.

“Thought you would’ve told me if someone came.”

A far too recognizable figure emerged from behind one of the cabins, his purple shirt stained with fresh blood. The scent followed both of them now, even if they were dead. Perhaps that was why she felt so at ease with his presence.

Montana beckoned at his shirt with the blade of her knife, now held loose in her right hand. “You must’ve found someone too.”

He shrugged at that, dismissing her with a quick mumble. Xavier came towards her and the body of the man, raising a brow with confusion. “We should’ve let one of them die out of the camp. Now they’re together.”

“You killed his girl?”

“I guess.” Xavier turned his head towards her. “She wanted to hook up with me in the cabin.”

Montana had to laugh, that same malicious grin riding upon her lips. “You led her on though?”

“When she leaned in, I pushed the knife right through her mouth. Stuck her up against the wall.”

A warm feeling pooled in the pits of her stomach, somewhat impressed that Xavier could pull anything like that off. Despite agreeing to help Montana with her goal of having a decently evil afterlife, she never thought he’d last long. In the time they dated, she had to break up with him after finding him too soft for her liking. Now it seems he had it in him all along.

“Can you show me?”

There was a silent exchange between the two of them, a moment where their words passed from their eyes. It wasn’t fear that held them back, but the most copious amounts of intimacy came from silence. 

He leaned down towards her, letting his lips graze upon her own before he stopped and refused to move closer. It left her hungry, desiring to have a feel for what he had to offer, though when she tried to lean forward his finger pushed soft against her mouth. It smelled of metal, like the handle of a bloodied knife. His eyes were open, a mischievous grin spread across his face. Montana didn’t like to be teased, to be toyed.

When Xavier leaned back and folded his hands behind his body, Montana grumbled, “Show me the fucking body.”

“Alright, relax.” His eyebrows raised as if her words were outrageous, while the blonde looked over at the body she’d left from before. It wasn’t gone, the corpse still there, but there was a feeling of absence that resonated with Montana. That body’s soul was gone, trapped somewhere in the invisible perimeter of Camp Redwood and stuck permanently.

As she was looking at the body, Xavier called from a few feet away, “You coming?”

“Yeah.” Montana’s eyes had to be peeled away from the bloodied body as she turned to follow Xavier inside one of the cabins. The scenery felt so foreign to her, a cold atmosphere shrouded by regret and humiliation. This was a familiar cabin to both of them, where she and Brooke hid inside while Xavier was resting after his psychotic break. 

When they entered, Montana was taken aback by the chills that struck her arms. It wasn’t from the sight, but from the temperature in the cabin itself. The whole place felt dead. She glanced down to see Xavier’s arm raised in little hairs, but the distraction otherwise was minimal as she glanced around to find the body.

With a subtle tap to her shoulder, Montana turned as Xavier beckoned his head to the left. Close to the cabin’s exit was a woman, dull black bikini with riding jean shorts, a knife perfectly angled in her mouth. The previous frown on her face was replaced by a scowl. “You idiot.”

Xavier blinked back his pride. “What?”

“You didn’t kill her, dipshit.”

“She’s dead, look at her! Pale as snow, dead as us.”

Montana was hesitant to believe him, perhaps wary that he left a potential escapee alive. If she were not dead, and managed to get out of the camp, this whole existence as murderous ghosts could be blown.

The blonde moved closer towards the body; hesitance was edged in every step. She looked at the body, close now, with analytical eyes. Her gaze lifted from her stilled body to her face. The woman’s brown hair was smeared with dark red blood, while her eyes were almost forced shut. _Probably closed her eyes to dull the pain_, Montana mused in thought. That never works.

It came to a sudden shock as then one dark eye opened, then another. Montana lurched back forcefully, taken aback by the girl’s momentary wake-up. She began to scream or do what she could to make some noise from her opened mouth. Blood spilled from her open jaws, splattering against Xavier’s already stained shirt. “Aw, shit! My shirt!”

“Fuck your shirt, she’s still alive,” Montana hissed. The girl’s hands slapped at Montana’s body as she tried to keep her away. She tried to reach for the knife, but every time her hand moved the woman pushed her away. Then, as she pushed once more, she spat at her blonde hair.

Montana grunted, stepping back and using her hand to wipe away the splatter. Her head turned to look at the tools in the room – a multitude of pillows for suffocation, a few hanging wires – yet nothing struck her. The blade she’d used to kill the man before was on the floor by her feet, and show she quickly grabbed it.

“You fucking bitch,” she cursed, finally raising the already bloody object and digging it into her left eye. With a quick pull out, she barely gave the unknown woman a chance to so much as scream before plunging it into her chest, somewhere close to where the heart was.

She stabbed a few more times, breathless and aggravated. This kill was much messier than usual, that fear of an escape making her more anxious than ever. When she saw her body fall limp, Montana knew that this time it was over.

Being so caught up in the killing, she had forgotten about Xavier behind her. “That was sick.” His voice was somewhat hoarse, even raised a bit. “You didn’t have to be that harsh.”

There he still was, that innocence remaining engraved in his very soul. Montana had to dig it out of him or else it would be a long eternity here.

She tightened her hold on the knife, taking steps closer towards him. It was on instinct that he backed up, his body pressed against the cold wall. In a vulnerable position like that, Montana had to grin. He was always taller than her, but with a knife in her hand, it didn’t matter. Nothing ever did in these cases: not height, not gender, not race. Everyone was scared with a knife at their throat.

The blade lifted ever so slightly to his throat, the cold tingling against his skin so the hair along his body raised. His breaths were pushed onto her forehead, the warmth making her ravenous for tension. 

Her body leaned into his, lips against lips. It was his relaxation against Montana’s skin that made her push closer, and though she had moved the blade away from his neck it still remained tight in her hands. She had more up her sleeves for him.

She let her teeth pull upon his bottom lip, then pulled away quickly. He was close to her, hands still pressed against the wall, desperate for her affection. Montana couldn’t just give him that.

The blade rose to his face, caressing his cheek as Richard Ramirez had once done to her. She was slow, letting the cold sensation move deep into his skin. The tip of the knife dug harder into the flesh, though when Xavier let out a slight wince, she pulled it away from his face. A small droplet of blood fell from the exposed wound, though she didn’t care too much. They were ghosts, blood couldn’t bother them too much if all their wound healed in a day’s time.

“Sorry,” he said suddenly. They were still close, with Xavier’s hand pressing into his fresh cut on his face. “I thought that would kill her.”

Montana wasn’t one to forgive, and that wasn’t going to change with Xavier. Nonetheless, she shrugged. “Better learn now than fuck up when Brooke returns.” If she ever did, of course.

Xavier nodded, his bleached hair bouncing slightly. His eyes shifted from her face, looking down at the floor. “You’re still serious about this Brooke thing?”

She had to nod, though Xavier’s doubt made her weary. “She killed my brother.” Her voice broke for a moment, a soft crack. Brooke wasn’t at fault in her mind, but in her heart, she took everything away from her- Joey, her dream, frankly her _life_. 

His hands fell onto her shoulders, fingers soothing her tension. “Then if she comes back, let’s kill that bitch.”


End file.
